Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“So what’d I miss?” Brooke asked. She’d directed the question at him, but it quieted the rest of the group down.
Another thing he appreciated about these guys. They were chill as fuck but knew when to get serious and quit bullshitting.
Tyler returned, handing out beers. “We were about to discuss the plan for Saturday,” he said.
Nodding, Brooke accepted a beer then focused her attention Curly’s way.
“Hold up,” Tracker cut in. A smug grin curled his lips. “Guess the fuck what I found out.”
“What?” Curly said.
Tracker leaned back in his chair, still smirking. “Prick doesn’t own the farmland.” He dropped his pizza to his plate. “Tell me I’m amazing.”
Curly’s heart seized. “What?”
“You’re shitting me,” Ty added.
Shaking his head, Tracker said. “Damn honest truth. Met this chick last night. Banged her at—” He flicked a quick glance at Brooke, then winced. “Uh, I made love to her at my house.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You made love to a woman?”
“No, fine, you’re right. I was trying to be respectful. I banged her good. Damn, she had an ass.”
Curly cleared his throat.
“But I digress. Turns out she’s a realtor and knew all about the property because her company had it on the market for fucking years. Owner’s this old guy who lives in Georgia now. He finally agreed to rent it out to Prick about five months or so ago since no one wants the place.”
Curly wanted it. And he just got about ten steps closer to owning it. Without the obstacle of Prick, he’d get his hands on the place so much easier. He was confident he could make the man an offer he’d never turn down. Who even cared if he paid too much for the property?
“Shit, man, that’s damn good news. Thanks.” Curly extended a fist to Tracker, who bumped it. The guys were already looking out for the club.
“No problem. Happy to fuck a wild chick in the name of the club any time you need.” He winked at Brooke, who snorted.
“Okay,” Jinx said. “Let’s get back to Saturday.”
Curly sighed. She wasn’t going to like this shit one bit, but it was the most intelligent way to play it. “We’ve gotta use this fight to gather intelligence. We can’t go in blind and expect to get anything done. Jinx met up with Prick at the bar again last night, and the guy won’t give up info about where this fight will be.”
She gripped the arm of her chair so hard; her knuckles were white. “There’s gotta be a way—”
Placing a hand over hers, he shook his head. “We have no idea what his security is like, if any. For all we know, half the guys who attend will be armed. We know the cops are in his pocket. Maybe some of them are there. If we bust in thinking we’re gonna shut shit down, one of us could end up with a bullet in our ass or behind bars.”
Brooke paled.
Everyone remained quiet, letting her process. After a few moments, her shoulders slumped. “It makes me sick to think we might find another injured or dead dog on the side of the road Sunday morning, but I do understand. I’m not blinded by my need to rescue the dogs. I’d kill me if something happened to any one of you. I’m the one who put this on your plate.”
Like the dogs she rescued, time seemed to have Brooke slowly relaxing and letting others into her orbit.
She turned her hand over and linked her fingers with his. Curly pretended not to notice the curious stares from his soon-to-be brothers. “We’ll nail his ass to the wall, Brooke. I promise you. We just have to be smart about it.”
After blowing out a breath, she said, “I’d love ten minutes in a room with him. Tie him up and give me ten minutes, and he’d never hurt another dog again.” Her tone was low, deadly, and serious as a heart attack.
Fuck if it didn’t make him even harder to hear her threaten Prick with violence.
From across the table, Tracker tried to suppress a laugh, which made him snort instead.
Jinx whistled. “Damn, woman, you’re fierce. Do not let me get on your bad side.”
That brought a small smile to her lips.
“Tell you what,” Scott said from her left side. “You trust us to do this our way, and I’ll get you your ten minutes with him.”
The fuck?
Scott held his hand out to Brooke. She studied him for a moment before slipping her hand in his. “Deal.”
There was no fucking way that’d be happening. What the hell was Scott thinking? Sure, Brooke was a kick-ass woman, but she did not need shit like that fucking with her head. And it would because that’s what it did. He’d lived surrounded by men accustomed to violence for his entire life. Brooke wasn’t like that. She talked a damn good game, but she was a rescuer, a healer, a nurturer.